


hold me (down)

by mediwitch3



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biceps, Bottom Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Evan "Buck" Buckley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediwitch3/pseuds/mediwitch3
Summary: Eddie has a thing about Buck’s biceps. It’s a problem.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 583





	hold me (down)

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame Haley (buckleystrand on tumblr) for this one....inspired by a tweet abt oli’s biceps.
> 
> Come chat w me on tumblr @queenginnys

Eddie blames the weather. That’s reasonable, right? If it weren’t getting hotter (it’s always _hot_ in LA, but summer’s right around the corner and the heat index has been climbing) he wouldn’t be having this problem.

Maybe he can blame the department, too. They’ve all sort of wordlessly transitioned into wearing their short sleeve uniforms now that it’s mid May, and they were _not_ designed to have any extraneous fabric. It’s all tight fitted for ease of movement and to avoid getting caught on stuff during rescues, but honestly? It’s driving Eddie crazy.

Buck’s arms are huge. That’s not a secret. What _is_ a secret is how attractive Eddie finds it. And seeing them, day in, day out, all but busting out of the tight sleeves of his uniform? Eddie might have to transfer.

He’s watching Buck eat, his arms flexing as he waves his hands around excitedly and brings food to his mouth. Eddie feels a little dazed by it, hasn’t taken a bite of his own food in several minutes, his fork slack in his hand. He has no idea what Buck’s saying, either, and it’s a good thing he’s not talking to Eddie or he’d be _doomed_.

“God, Buck could choke me with his biceps and I’d probably just ask him to do it again,” he muses. Then pauses, looking up at the sudden silence around the table.

Buck is staring at him, bright red in the face, and Eddie feels his own face flushing to match. He flicks his eyes over to Hen, who’s valiantly holding back a laugh, Chimney doing a much worse job at her side.

He leans over, whispers, “did I say that out loud?”

Hen presses her lips together and hums, nodding. Eddie swallows harshly, lifting burning eyes back up to glances around the table, avoiding Buck’s gaze. He puts down his fork.

“Well,” he says, drumming his fingers on the table, “this has been sufficiently awkward.”

Then, he does what any man would do in his situation, and flees.

He somehow manages to avoid Buck for the rest of the shift, sticks to Hen like glue and doesn’t respond to any of Buck’s attempts to talk to him alone. It’s very awkward, but even Bobby seems to be taking pity on him and doesn’t try to pair him with Buck on any of the relatively minor calls they get sent on, just lets him follow Hen around like a baby duck.

He drives crazy on the way home, wants to put as much distance between him and the awkwardness as possible, though he knows it’s only a matter of time before he _does_ have to talk to Buck about this. He relieves Carla, does the bedtime song and dance with Christopher, then collapses on the couch with a beer and a shot of tequila.

He’s not sure how much time passes while he wallows in his misery, feeling embarrassed and replaying the horrible moment in his mind on a loop like it’s stuck on the projector wheel. He empties his beer bottle, but doesn’t get another. He feels drunk already.

Moreso, when Buck walks in the door.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence, per se, because Buck has his own key and uses it frequently and gleefully, but Eddie was kind of expecting him to—he doesn’t know. Back off? Not want to be around Eddie right now? But there he is, in all his glory, wearing one of his stupid button ups that only make his arms look bigger and Eddie’s pants tighter.

Buck just stands there for a moment, staring at Eddie staring at him from the couch. Eddie’s not gonna break the silence, though, ’cause this is _his_ house and Buck was the one who just showed up. So. It’s up to him to make the first move.

Finally, Buck says, in a voice that sounds a little accusatory considering he’s still standing in Eddie’s doorway, “you’re not gonna say anything?”

“I think I’ve said enough,” Eddie points out. Buck twists his mouth down, then takes a step forward, lets the door swing shut behind him.

“Maybe,” he says. Eddie just watches him, a little nervous, as he takes another few steps forward.

Buck looks anxious too, but determined, his wide shoulders set back and his skin a healthy pink against the stark white of his shirt. He’s almost—prowling. Eddie feels like prey, a bit hunted, a bit small, wants to roll over for him and let him prove his dominance in a way he’s never let himself feel before. He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, looks up at Buck through his lashes when he comes to stand in front of Eddie on the couch.

Buck doesn’t say anything else to him, and Eddie’s pretty much been at a loss for words since Buck walked through the door, so they just stare each other down. Eddie’s already panting, feels himself stirring in his jeans as his eyes trail over Buck’s biceps of their own accord.

“Is Christopher here?” Buck asks lowly, and Eddie snaps his eyes up to see him lick his lips. Eddie nods slowly, and Buck doesn’t waste time before reaching down and pulling him up.

Eddie sucks a harsh breath. “What are you doing?”

“Bedroom,” is all Buck says, turning him by the shoulders and giving him a little push.

Eddie stumbles down the hall, feels a little like he’s floating, out of his body and keenly aware of Buck’s eyes on his back. He turns to watch Buck close and lock the bedroom door, and swallows hard as Buck starts undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“First things first,” Buck says quietly, his hands pausing what they’re doing to be sure Eddie’s listening, “you should know this—isn’t a one time thing. Not for me.”

“No?” Eddie asks, breathless. Buck shakes his head.

“No,” he answers, “if that’s a problem, tell me now.”

“It’s not a problem,” Eddie whispers. His hands are shaking at his sides. “I’m um—in the same boat.”

Buck rewards him with a huge grin, shiny and white in his dark bedroom. He resumes undoing his buttons, and Eddie’s hands twitch.

“Second order of business,” Buck says, and he undoes the last button so his shirt hangs open, “how do you wanna do this?”

“God, you,” Eddie’s mouth is dry, he has to swallow a few times around his clicking throat to make his voice work, “I want you to hold me down.”

Buck makes a noise, and for all his bravado he seems like he loses control at that, rips off his shirt and strides, bare-chested, over to grab Eddie’s face and crush their mouths together. Eddie feels like a two dollar whore as he moans, letting Buck’s tongue in eagerly to explore his mouth and brings his hands up to drag them over Buck’s skin.

He’s flushed from head to toe, grabbing at whatever muscles he can feel and pressing up as close to Buck as he can get. Buck lets go of his face to yank Eddie’s shirt over his head, and Eddie’s sure he comes up ruffled.

His mouth feels bruised when Buck presses in again, his own hands roaming over Eddie and guiding him backwards to fall onto the bed. Eddie struggles to move farther onto the bed, and gasps as Buck grabs him around the waist and all but throws him onto the pillows by the headboard.

Eddie’s never been this turned on in his life, scrambles to tear at Buck’s jeans so they can get a move on, and Buck’s laughing against his neck but Eddie can feel him, hot and hard as he rips his pants down and watches Buck’s cock slap his belly. His mouth is watering but he’s not sure they have time for that, can feel his own cock weeping in his briefs and knows this probably won’t last as long as he wants, the first time.

Buck’s working hard on a hickey at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and it stings as he pulls back to survey his handy work, leaning back in again to drag his stubble over Eddie’s neck in a way that makes his cock throb.

“God, Buck—” he can help the way his voice comes out in a whine, desperate and needy and an octave higher than normal. “Can you—”

Buck’s hands on his zipper cut him off, and he makes an embarrassing noise as Buck’s hand brushes his cock. Buck turns onto his side to kick off his pants where Eddie abandoned them around his thighs, and then leans up to drag Eddie’s off him. Eddie feels manhandled in the best way, wiggles a little in the hope that Buck takes the hint.

He does, grabbing Eddie’s hips and flipping him onto his belly effortlessly, like Eddie, six feet tall and almost 200 pounds, weighs nothing, and he feels a blurt if precome drip down his cock as his hips meet the mattress. Buck’s leaning over him to rummage through the bedside table, where Eddie knows there’s lube and condoms.

He makes a triumphant little “aha!” sound when he finds them, Eddie’s back cooling as Buck leans on his heels to slick up his fingers.

Eddie’s already rolling his hips against the mattress, can’t help it, needs some relief against the weight of his cock between his legs. He whines, long and too loud, when Buck presses the first finger in, and Buck shushes him in a voice that sounds smug.

He wriggles, canting his hips up and taking another finger. He can feel himself sweating in every crevice of his body, and when he gets up on his knees, face still down, his cock hangs heavy and proud like a beacon calling Buck’s name.

He hears the condom being torn open as Buck removes his fingers, and he pushes his hips back, hoping he doesn’t look desperate but knowing he does as the cool air of the house breathes over his exposed hole.

The mattress shifts as Buck finally sits up on his knees, and Eddie shudders as his hands touch Eddie’s skin. He pushes in slowly, seating himself and draping his body over Eddie’s back so he can talk directly into Eddie’s ear.

“You ready?” He murmurs, and Eddie feels it in his whole body. He nods, a little frantic, and Buck presses a smile into Eddie’s neck.

His hands wrap around Eddie’s biceps, pushing him into the mattress as Buck starts moving. Eddie feels breathless, feels Buck all around him and inside him and never wants to leave this place. Buck’s pressing himself into Eddie’s very bones, with his hands and his cock as he fucks Eddie harder into a bed that’s protesting more than Eddie ever will.

He doesn’t last long, as he knew he wouldn’t, coming like a bottle rocket all over the sheets under him when Buck’s cock finds his prostate for the first time. Buck’s hand slaps over his mouth as he groans loudly, muffling the sound in the palm of his hand.

Buck pulls out, flips Eddie’s boneless body over into the wet spot, which should be gross but somehow _isn’t,_ and tears off the condom, throwing it somewhere behind him. Eddie doesn’t really care where, at this moment, because Buck’s stripping himself roughly over Eddie and making these rough grunting noises that make Eddie’s soft cock twitch like it wants to get hard again.

He watches Buck bring himself off, spilling over Eddie’s chest and leaving him marked and disgusting in a way Eddie doesn’t entirely mind, then collapsing over Eddie with a low groan.

They’re both sweaty and sticky with lube and come and should probably move, but Eddie feels _good_ , trapped under Buck’s ridiculously large body and thinking it might be where he’s going to live from now on.

He brings a hand up to trace one of the tattoos on Buck’s bicep, even bigger now that it’s spread and relaxed over Eddie’s chest. The muscles twitch, and Eddie looks over at Buck with a raised brow. Buck smirks at him.

“I always knew you thought I was hot,” he says, smug. Eddie just rolls his eyes.


End file.
